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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22741297">lucid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson'>ndnickerson</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Nancy Drew (TV 2019), Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Cunnilingus, Dream Sex, Episode Tag, F/M, Fantasy, First Meetings, First Time, Lucid Dreaming, Mystery Stories, Nancy Drew Files, Reconciliation, merging canons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:15:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22741297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy's time in the whisper box reignites an addiction she'd thought she kicked. </p>
<p>Set immediately post 1x13, The Whisper Box, and will be so incredibly jossed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nancy Drew/Ned Nickerson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Drewson 🔍🚗</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lucid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you're a fan of the Nancy Drew Mystery Stories, The Nancy Drew Files, and the TV show, this... might just hit you exactly right. If it's some combination of the above, you might still have enough to get it. If you're only familiar with the TV show or only familiar with the books, I think you might still be able to get enough context, but I'm not sure.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Claw was on the way to exactly nowhere, which explained almost everything.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even though she had managed to talk herself out of driving by, Nancy still found herself reluctantly turning into the parking lot. She didn't see the J. Dodd work truck in its usual place, and her shoulders slumped a little. The restaurant itself was dark.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wasn't exactly <em>afraid</em> to go to sleep. She wasn't concussed. She was just running on fumes now, after her experience in the Whisper Box and finding out that Tiffany might have been haunted by Lucy, too.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She found herself wanting to tell someone, and the one person she wanted to tell the most... </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well. No use in dwelling on it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She took the long way home, just in case the truck wasn't back at the garage. Just in case it was parked somewhere near George's house.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He's an ex. It doesn't matter anymore.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even though being an ex meant having been a <em>something</em>, and they never had.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They hadn't been together in what felt like a year, now, but her body didn't know that. She hadn't exactly become accustomed to seeing her mother in the house again, solid and real and <em>warm</em>, but the longing for it to somehow be true was visceral. Turning the corner to see the kitchen, that almost giddy high throbbing in her throat in the space of a single heartbeat before she was crushed again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had already been through the hell of burying her mother once. Having to choose to walk away from her, that had been like ripping herself in half. Oh, she had known that the woman who felt so solid and real in her embrace was just a fantasy, but that hadn't mattered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Goodbyes shouldn't hurt so much.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And maybe that was why Nick hadn't been able to bring himself to truly say goodbye to her. Sure he'd be better off without her; he was insane to stay in Horseshoe Bay with those bearer bonds when they could totally transform his life. When nothing she knew of was keeping him here, other than finding Tiffany's killer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>He's staying for George, for the restaurant,</em> Nancy told herself savagely as she dumped her messenger bag in the corner and raked her fingers through her hair. <em>To find whoever killed Tiffany. But not me. Not now.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She went through her nighttime routine in a reverie, her movements stiff, fingertips pressing with brutal force as she gripped her hairbrush, her toothbrush.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She touched the locket around her neck, remembering Nick touching it too, remembering him talking about her keeping a piece of her mother near her, and had to look away from her reflection before she lost her composure entirely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She cried herself to sleep anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nancy could count her lucid dreams on one hand. She often didn't even bother remembering her dreams at all. The heavy lifting was going on behind the scenes: her subconscious digesting a clue, decoding a puzzle. Who gave a fuck if, in the movie unspooling before her unseeing eyes, she hadn't studied for a civics test or the brakes on her car weren't working? It was irrelevant.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But then an image popped into her head, one she had been all too reluctant to let herself recall: Nick, gazing intently into her face as he helped her sit up in the whisper box. He had looked worried, relieved, terrified, happy. He had looked like he cared.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A still, small voice murmured, <em>and what if you're still in the whisper box?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her tear-stung eyes popped open, and she gazed up at the ceiling.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her mind knew, but her body didn't. Her body remembered his, the familiar weight of him on her, their bodies tangled on the couch. Nestled against him, feeling his heart beat. Only the location had been fantasy. The rest of it had all been real, once upon a time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>No version of me would have broken up with you.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And maybe that was the best indication she was no longer stuck in the whisper box: when she rolled over and tipped her cell phone up to check her notifications, she saw nothing from Nick.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Please come back.</em> Another in the stack of little blue envelopes. He considered them friends now; he'd meant nothing more than that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her mind knew. But her heart didn't.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nancy was at the wheel of her mother's car, Bess in the seat next to her, George behind them. The music was blaring, something with a great beat, something they were all singing along with.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then Nancy blinked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A dream. Nothing sinister. No mystery to solve; no recurring motif of the joined horseshoes to keep reminding her of the key to Tiffany's box. And no Nick.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a relief. Of course it was. She wasn't sure how much of that dream version of him she could take; God, it had felt so good to lose herself in him again, to see him gazing at her with such desire and adoration.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And a dream was the only place it was ever going to happen again. Even if she wanted him back—and she did, so, so very much, she could admit to herself now—he had moved on. It was better for both of them that he had. Maybe he'd be happy now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You know," George said from the backseat, pursing cinnamon-red lips, "to hell with it. Guys just aren't worth it."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bess nodded, a definite gleam in her eye as she glanced back at George. "Girls, on the other hand..."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Women</em>," George corrected her, then sighed. "Maybe we'll find some at this stupid carnival."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Doubtful." Bess pulled down the visor to give her makeup another last-minute check.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Which is why you're giving yourself a touch-up right now?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nancy shook her head. Wherever they were, it wasn't anywhere near her hometown. The dense woods made a tunnel of the road they were traveling down, but it was a gorgeous day. Maybe Lucy would take this opportunity to show her another clue, so she decided to keep her eyes peeled, just in case.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wasn't really surprised when a plume of smoke caught her eye, then George's.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They didn't even really debate it; Bess pulled her phone out and grumbled about shitty signal strength, asking them to figure out the address and where they were, as Nancy and George looked for other cars, someone they could flag down for help. They saw no one.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the clearing around the next bend, a mansion was on fire. She didn't recognize it as any significant landmark from Horseshoe Bay; it was just a white house with columns, no cars nearby, nothing. Bess trailed behind, trying to reach an emergency dispatcher, as Nancy and George raced toward the front door. No one answered their frantic knocking, and they split up to circle the house, to see if they could find an unlocked entrance.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nancy kept glancing at windows, curtains, anything, waiting to see Lucy's drowned silhouette, some clue. There was nothing. She saw someone running away, but when she pursued, the woods had gone silent—and the cynical part of her mind blamed it on the dream. Of course the possible suspect had just evaporated. As she slowly made her way back, sweeping her gaze over the ground, she came across a ring.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(<em>nick had been wearing a ring, that dream version of him, and she'd felt the curve of it against her skin—</em>)</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She shook her head and slipped the ring into her pocket.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As she came around the house, she saw a man in the driver's seat of her car, and bolted toward it without a second thought. Her sneakers pounded in the dirt, and she heard George's shout, felt the sting of the smoke in the air against her eyes and the back of her throat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then Nick raised his head and looked directly into her eyes with that disarming grin. "Your car?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nancy shuddered to a stop, her lips parting, feeling like she'd been kicked directly in the chest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I can't. I can't do this.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yes," she said firmly. "We stopped to see if we could help."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Me too. I was about to move this out of the way..."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"How, by hotwiring it?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His look of surprise was all too fucking familiar. Her heart kicked again. "Putting it in neutral and rolling it away," he said, swinging the door open and stepping out, his gaze still locked to Nancy. "But now you're back. Anyone inside? No one answered my knock."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A lone, thin siren cut through the thick atmosphere around them, and Nancy gave her head a little shake, breaking their eye contact. "Not that we could find, either."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After the firefighters arrived, Nancy was relieved to lose herself in talking to them. She wanted Nick to just fade into the background. Seeing him, even in a dream, was too painful, especially now that she felt like she had just lost him all over again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Fuck the whisper box. Fuck all this. Her heart was raw, the pain she'd been through today <em>barely</em> scabbed over. And she was lucid; she could do anything she wanted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bess ran up to her. "Nancy! I found this..."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A diary. Written in something that looked like it might be a code.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her tension seemed to drain away almost immediately. This was more like it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were walking up to a... <em>fraternity house.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nancy glanced over at Bess, who shrugged. "We'll be over at Theta Pi, if you want us," she said with a little wink, including George in her gesture. "He seems like a <em>total</em> sweetheart, but if anything happens, text us <em>immediately</em>. George packed her crowbar."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She didn't even have time to wish Bess meant someone else. She could vaguely remember the game, cheering herself hoarse in the stands, watching Nick run in the touchdown that won the game. Seeing the message inviting her to this party.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She needed to walk away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She couldn't.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nancy was handed a red Solo cup immediately, and she saw Nick thirty seconds later. She spoke his name soundlessly, a grin lighting up her face despite all her efforts to stop it, and his answering grin kicked her in the chest again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Fuck.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was the last thing she needed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Call me Ned," he said, once he was close enough for them to hear each other over the incredible din of the party around them. Then he was looping an arm around her, and her lashes were fluttering down as she tipped her chin up, offering her lips without even the hesitation of a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was home. He was her fucking <em>home</em>. How the hell could she stay away? She was strong, but not this strong, and...</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was all just mental masturbation, really. Inventing yet another fantasy version of him, putting all the words she wanted him to speak in his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She opened her eyes lazily when their kiss finally broke, and the desire in his eyes was obvious. This version of him was... more confident, and from the game, he'd earned it. Holy shit, he'd earned it. He was the big man here. Guests greeted him by name, their eyes shining in adoration, congratulating him, heaping praise on him. He accepted it with humility, but without doubt; he always mentioned a teammate's contribution, but that didn't diminish his own accomplishments. Those same guests cast appreciative glances at her, because she'd caught his eye, so she had to be special.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This version of Nick didn't live over a garage; <em>Ned</em> lived upstairs in a fraternity house, the bass pounding downstairs, the atmosphere thick with laughter and inebriation, living Nick's dream life. She half-expected his door to be the one to the whisper box, but it was just a normal door, the room beyond it unremarkable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then he swept her up, capturing her mouth in another hungry, searing-hot kiss as he carried her to the bed, and she didn't give a fuck about anything else. Her encounter with the whisper-box version of Nick had whetted her appetite.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She craved him. And she could be anywhere, anywhere she could imagine, and this was the only place she <em>could</em> imagine.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were probably reasons to stop him and <em>this</em>, but this was a dream and she would take all of him she could get.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They tumbled onto the bed together, their lips fused and her heart pounding wildly, and they couldn't strip off their clothes fast enough. Just like their first meeting, just like earlier, the attraction between them was undeniable, inescapable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had wanted to lose herself in him, to find a way to escape from the pain for a little while. And then Nick had just become another source of it. She had never intended to give him her heart.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In her darker moments, she was convinced that she was the curse in her own life. But in this dream... Ned pulled back and gazed down at her, and his gaze was clear, burning with desire, tender and sweet. He was offering her a heart she had not yet managed to break.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"God, you're beautiful," he murmured. "So incredibly beautiful." He moved to brush a strand of hair off her cheek. "I can't believe you're really here."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gave him a slow grin. "What can I say. You were <em>very</em> helpful during that case."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The first of many." His slow grin had her wrapping her legs around him before he lowered himself to her again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And he had been... well, more than incredible. Going over to Honey's house and seeing the family's dire circumstances, and vanishing for thirty minutes only to return with what could only be called a feast. Then he'd even left some cash in the cabinet; he'd thought he was unobserved, but Nancy had seen it. He had called Nancy every day, checking to see if she'd found any more leads, volunteering his time, asking if he could take her out for a coffee, for <em>anything</em>... and every time she'd heard his voice, every time she had just mysteriously happened to run into him, every time her hand had brushed his, well. This had grown and grown until it was undeniable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her fantasies usually weren't so elaborate. Her subconscious had built them a backstory complete with the kind of case she'd had in the <em>before</em>, in the time her mother was still alive, when everything was clear-cut and made sense. But now, Nick, <em>Ned</em>, had been a part of it too. He hadn't had a personal stake in what they were investigating; he had just wanted to be around her, wanted to be part of her life.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then there was <em>this</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her eyes sewn shut, she gave herself over to the incredible pleasure of it as he stroked his tongue over her clit. The shock of feeling him do this the first time, her gasped begging for him to <em>just right there, oh God</em>, coming apart underneath him with her hips shivering as he went down on her through her orgasm...</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no tentativeness about this now, no doubt, and even his playfulness felt confident and assured. Their first time in bed together and he <em>knew</em> her, or maybe he just knew so many other women that this was rote to him now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her heart squeezed painfully as jealousy washed over her, bitter and panicked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then he suckled against her clit and her abs tensed, her hips rocking as she spread her legs wide and sobbed in pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kissed his way back up her body, slow, exploring her all over again, while she trembled with aftershocks. By the time his face was on level with hers, she had her head tipped back and was lightly touching his headboard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Mmm?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Seeing if I could count the notches," she joked, but she knew she wasn't hiding all the fear in her eyes when their gazes met.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shook his head slowly, and she saw no guile in his expression.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"For you, Nan," he murmured, as she wrapped herself around him again, "there would be a new headboard."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story (chapter) was originally published elsewhere. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving feedback, especially if you want more! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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